The Listener
by PrincessDovahkiin
Summary: Rosaline Fray had no family. Unless, of course, you consider a shadowy group of assassins a family. (Dark Brotherhood fic.)
1. Chapter 1

There are two ways you can tell my story.

On one hand, you could sugar coat it; I live a happy life with my new family in a lovely home in Falkreath, and we live happily ever after. The end.

I wish that was my story, but it isn't the truth.

This is the truth.

My name is Rosaline Fray. When I was only a few weeks old, my parents left me at Honorhall Orphanage. According to Grelod the "Kind," my mother was a whore and my father was a drunk. I wouldn't know. I have no one to tell me the truth of it.

The years I spent at Honorhall were torture. Actually, torture is an understatement. It actually was a living hell. Grelod treated all of us kids like slaves, and beat us if we even looked at her the wrong way. We were barely fed, and in the winter, sometimes it would get so cold that someone would freeze to death.

Some of us talked about running away, but we knew that we would never make it. What would a group of kids with no education and no family do in the real world?

I decided that I wouldn't ever run away. I was 11 years old, and I thought that maybe I could struggle along for a few more years as long as I just keep my head down and do what I was told. Of course, I didn't even make it 3 more months.

A few days after my 12th birthday, Grelod called all of the children together. She must have been in a pretty good mood, because she didn't hit anyone as we walked into the main room.

"You ungrateful guttersnipes aren't doing enough to help around here," she said. "From now on, I want the boys to scrub the floors and the girls to cook dinner."

No one said anything.

"Well? What do you say?

"Yes Grelod," we all said, but before we could scurry of to do the chores, she stopped us.

"One more thing," she said. "I don't want to hear any more talk of adoption. None of you are EVER going to be adopted. Understand?"

"Yes Grelod, we love you, thank you for your kindness."

"Good. Now, go do your chores."

As a child, I almost never spoke, in fear the I would say the wrong thing and Grelod would get angry. At this, though, I couldn't stay quiet.

"Don't tell us that!" I shouted at her. "We WILL get adopted, and we'll get away from you!"

At first. Grelod was shocked into silence. Then, she reached out and smacked me across the face. Hard. I staggered backwards into the table, and the pots, pans, and bowls clattered to the floor.

"You clumsy bitch. I'll be damned if you're eating my food. tonight," she said.

I said nothing.

"Pick up and go straight to bed."

I bent over to pick up a pan that had fallen to the floor.

Then I swung it as hard as I could.

Grelod was unconscious as soon as she hit the floor. Dropping the pan, I backed towards the door.

"I hate you," I whispered, and ran outside as fast as I could.

One thing was for certain; I couldn't stay in Riften. Surely the guards would find me and take me back to Grelod, which was out of the question.

But where would I go? I had no family, and no friends. I couldn't simply stay with a stranger.

I decided to simply leave the city. It wouldn't be so bad, I thought. At least I was away from "Grelod the Kind." I smiled. The thought made me happy,

As long as I was away from Grelod, I could be happy.

And I was. Until I turned 26, that is.

(A/N: Welcome! I hope you at least kinda enjoyed it. More stuff that happened to her will be explained. It's gonna be the Skyrim Dark Bro storyline, which i know is a great name, haha, but it will be different because this is Rosaline, and she's... different. I shouldn't say too much more. You'll understand soon enough. Anyways, next chapter soon.)


	2. Chapter 2

Delayed Burial

In the years after I left Riften, I lived in an old house a few miles from Whiterun. It was a bit run-down, and only had one room, but it was home.

The day of my 26th birthday started out normally enough; I woke up, sat outside for about 30 minutes, ate breakfast, and tied my long blonde hair back into a braid. I debated staying home for the whole day, but I decided not to. It WAS my birthday, after all. Whiterun was not that far away, and I thought that maybe I could go to the Bannered Mare for a sweetroll, and maybe I could even make a few friends. So, I took a few coins and started the long and peaceful walk.

I only managed to walk for about half a mile before my peaceful walk to the city was interrupted. A loud crash came from my right, followed by a string of cursing. When I looked over, a cart was stuck on the side of the road, and one of it's wheels was completely broken.

For a second, I considered simply ignoring the issue, but I willed myself to turn around and see if I could help.

"Hello?" I called, approaching the broken wagon wheel. "Do you need help?"

The man with the broken wheel turned around and stared at me. He seemed to be about my age, maybe a few years older, although he a had an almost boyish quality about him. He had longish red hair, and was dressed in red and black, something about him seemed... odd. Maybe because he was dressed as a court jester. I had never seen one before, so it was weird seeing one in Skyrim.

I finally managed to ask, "What's the problem here?"

"Oh, my poor mother!" the man wailed in a distressed tone. "My dear mother, going to her eternal resting place! But now she can't, because we're stuck! Stuck!"

"Your mother?" I asked, looking at a large crate on the wagon. "Is that her, in the box?"

He looked at me as if to say, "Obviously."

"And she's... dead?" I had never been particularly bright in any situation.

"Yes! But the wagon wheel!" He shrieked. "Damnedest wagon wheel! Keeping me and mother from getting home!"

"Oh," I said, wondering what was wrong with this guy. "Oh, I see. Well, maybe someone could fix it."

Yes, perhaps," the man said. "See that farm over there?" he said, pointing to it. I said yes, I saw it. "Well, I've asked the man who owns it, Loreius, to help me! But he won't! He won't help poor Cicero and his mother fix the wheel!"

"Okay, um, Cicero, that is your name, right?" He nodded. "Okay, maybe I could talk to Loreius for you.

A huge smile spread over his face. "You will? Oh, thank you, kind stranger! Thank you so very much!"

"Um, you're welcome," I said, thinking that maybe Cicero had a few mental issues. "Yes, I'm very happy to help..."

"Wonderful!" Cicero did a sort of dance/walk around his broken wheel, and then gave me a wave.

It only took a minute to get to the Loreius farm. I found Loreius sitting out front, looking kind of angry. Putting aside my dislike of angry old people, I approached him slowly.

"Hello sir," I said, "There's a, um, weird man out there who needs your help..."

Loreius narrowed his eyes. "'Weird man?' You mean Cicero?" He shook his head. "The nutcase has already asked me about 5 times to help him. He can't seem to take no for an answer."

I was about to agree, especially with the nutcase part, but I promised Cicero that I would help him, and that's what I intended to do. "Why can't you help? I'm sure you have the tools to fix it, and I'm sure that he'd pay you..."

"Pay me?! This isn't about the money," Loreius said. "Have you seen the guy? He's crazy!"

"Well, yes, but-"

"And what's in that box, hm? He says it's his dead mother, and he's going to bury her. Ha!" The he sighed. "The issue here is that we don't know what's in that box. It could be weapons. Or Skooma. Or maybe even worse!"

"Okay, but-"

"Therefore, I will not be helping him."

"Listen," I said, speaking quickly so that I wouldn't be interrupted again. "He might be crazy, but he needs your help. Certainly you have the tools to fix the wheel."

Loreius looked ready to fight me, but he didn't. "You're right," he said. "Yes, you're right. Maybe he's nuts, but he does need help." He stood up. "Okay. You go down there and tell Cicer that I'll be there soon."

"Really?" I smiled. "Thank you!"

On the walk down, I wondered why I was so insistent on helping a (clearly) crazy man I just met. The way Loreius first reacted was the way I probably would have if it was me, but I knew it wasn't right. I guess that I wanted to prove that I was better than that, that I could do the right thing. Maybe this is stupid. I guess it doesn't matter.

When I got back to Cicero, he looked at me expectantly. "Well? Is Loreius going to help Cicero and his mother?"

"Yes," I said. "He said that he will be down soon."

"Oh, how wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Mother and I will wait right here, RIGHT HERE until Loreius comes to fix our wheel!"

"Alright then," I said. "Well, goodbye now."

"No, wait! Don't leave yet!" Cicero reached into his pocket. "Here, take this!" He held out a handful of gold.

"Oh, no," I said, looking at the ground. "No, you don't have to pay me."

"But I insist!" Cicero said, putting the gold into my hand. "The kind stranger has helped Cicero, so I must do something in return!"

"Oh, um, okay. Okay, Thank you." I slipped the money into my pocket. "Really, I should go, but, um, maybe I'll see you around?"

"Why, yes! Yes, I hope to see you, kind stranger! And your name is...?"

"Rosaline."

"Well, it has been a pleasure, Rosaline!" Cicero said. "Goodbye, and have a very nice day!"

"Right. Goodbye."

For a moment, I forgot why I even left my house, but then I remembered that it was my birthday.

I felt the coins in my pocket, and realized that I'd never had this much money at once before. Smiling, I walked to the Bannered Mare, expecting a better birthday than I've ever had.

(A/N: Just would like to point out that if you play Skyrim, Rosaline's house does NOT exist. just FYI. THis is kind of a filler chapter, sorry, but she HAD to meet Cicero. right? Also, If you want to stay updated, follow me. Or don't. Do what you want.)


	3. Chapter 3

Innocence Lost

I walked into the Bannered Mare, feeling warm and happy. "Hello Hulda," I said, waving to the woman who runs the inn. "How are things in Whiterun these days?"

Same as before," she said. "But in Windhelm..." She leaned towards me. "Do you know anything about the Dark Brotherhood?"

"Um, no, I don't think so," I said. Where was this going? I just wanted to buy a sweetroll. "I mean, I know that they're a group of assassins..."

"Well," she continued, "I heard a rumor that a boy in Windhelm has been doing the Black Sacrament."

"Wow. Can I buy a sweetroll, please?"

"Sure," Hulda said. I handed her some money and she passed me a sweetroll. "But keep listening; I heard that the boy is trying to kill an old woman from Riften, someone they call Grelod the Kind.

My mouth, which was about to take a bite of sweetroll, gapes at her instead. " _Grelod the kind?"_

"Mmmhmm. Why, did you know her?"

"I have to go." I left my sweetroll on the counter, and ran out the door.

I think that I ran the whole way home, but I can't remember. A boy in Windhelm, trying to have Grelod the Kind murdered? What is happening?

I wasn't sure how I should be reacting. On one hand, murder is wrong, of course. On the other hand, the world might be a better place if Grelod was no longer alive to abuse children.

Maybe I ought to find this boy. Maybe if I talked to him, I could find out why...

Actually, I knew why. She is a terrible, cruel woman who deserves to die. I felt my anger from my childhood years coming back to me.

Maybe I want her dead too.

I have to talk to this boy.

When I woke up the next morning (although I didn't get much sleep last night), I walked to the Whiterun stables and used some of the gold that Cicero gave me to hire a carriage. It would be a lot quicker than walking, and I didn't have the energy to make the long walk.

It occurred to me that I didn't know what I would say to the boy, or how he would respond to me. Truth be told, I didn't even know this boy's name, or where in Windhelm he lived, but I have to try.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I opened my eyes and I was in a city very different from Whiterun. Everything was kind of dark, and there was a thick layer of snow on the ground.

"Be careful," said the carriage driver as I stepped off. I didn't know if he meant be careful getting off of the carriage or be careful in Windhelm.

I didn't have to look around for too long. A little ways in, I found a little boy and an older woman standing outside a small house.

"Is it true what they say?" asked the little boy. "About Aventus doing the Black Sacrament?"

The older woman sighed. "You shouldn't ask about such things," she said. "Go home, to see your father."

When the boy left, I approached the woman. "I'm sorry to bother you," I said, "but did I hear something about the Black Sacrament?"

"I'm afraid so," she said. "Aventus Aretino, from Riften. Poor boy, his parents died, and he was sent to live at Honorhall Orphanage. He ran away, not that I can blame him, and he's trying to have Grelod the Kind killed. I understand disliking the woman, but murder? It seems a bit extreme."

"Do you- do you think I might be able to talk to him?"

"You could try," the woman said. "I'd rather not get involved."

"That's fine," I said. "Is this his house?"

The woman had already started to leave. "Yes," she said. "It should be unlocked."

I didn't know what I'd do if it wasn't, but luckily the door was unlocked.

"Hello?" I called out. "Hello, Aventus Aretino? "

I heard chanting coming from the dimly lit section of the house; "Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child on to me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptised in blood and fear." Aventus was on the floor, surrounded by candles, bones, and nightshade, among other things. "Come on," he moaned, "Why isn't it working?" Then he looked up and saw me.

"Um, hello," I said.

He scrambled to his feet. "You're here! I thought you'd never come!"

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I don't know what you mean."

"You're an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood, of course!" he said excitedly. "I did the thing. With the body, and the...the things. And you're here now! And you'll be able to hear my contract."

I was too surprised to respond.

"You see," Aventus said, "My mother... she died. And I'm all alone now. I was sent to live in Honorhall Orphanage with a woman they call Grelod the Kind. But she ISN'T kind at all. She's a horrible old woman, and I want her dead." He smiled. "That's why you're here."

I shook my head. "I'm really really sorry, but I'm not the Dark Brotherhood."

His smile faded. "Then why are you here?"

Why WAS I here? "Well, I, um..."

He shook his head. "No, It's fine. I understand. I can just keep trying the Black Sacrament."

He started to turn around, but I stopped him. "Wait!" He looked up at me, and I put my hand on his shoulder. :I'm not from the Dark Brotherhood. I've never even killed anyone, but... are you sure about this?"

Aventus nodded.

"Then I'll see what I can do."

He smiled so brightly, his smile lit up his whole face. "Really? You will? Oh, thank you so much! You'd better get going then! Maybe you can make it to Riften before nightfall." He showed me to the door. "Good luck," he said.

"Don't worry about me," I said. "It'll be easy.'

But by the time I got to Riften, I was starting to think that maybe it wouldn't be as easy as I thought. Sure, Grelod was a cruel and abusive woman, but murder was still murder. Before I could change my mind, I bought a dagger from a woman named Grelka and walked to the orphanage.

I remembered where the house was, even after all these years, and managed to slip inside without being noticed. I heard Grelod telling the kids that they'd never be adopted, and that they needed to get to bed this instant. My stomach clenched in anger, and I stepped deeper into the house.

"The children aren't up for adoption," Grelod snapped when she heard me come inside.

"That isn't why I'm here," I said quietly.

Her eyes narrowed. "I remember you," she said. "You ran away from here, didn't you? Well, you have no business here anymore, so get out!" She stormed off to her room, and slammed the door.

Well. Let's try this again.

I followed her, taking care not to alert the kids to my presence, and crept into her room, closing the door behind me.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" she asked angrily.

"I'm sorry, Grelod," I whispered.

"Damn right you should be sorry," she said. "Wasting my time like this. Just who do you think-"

But she didn't get to finish, because I plunged my dagger into her chest.

Her screams echoed through the building, and I heard the kids wake up. I opened the door, blood-stained dagger in hand, and every single child in the orphanage hugged me. I had to untangle myself from them, though, because I needed to get back to Windhelm so I could speak to Aventus.

On the trip there, I was extremely bothered, not because I felt guilty. I felt bothered because I didn't feel guilty at all.

I actually kind of enjoyed it. That was what hurt the most.

In Windhelm, I ran to Aventus' house, and was out of breath by the time I got back.

"Well?" Aventus said. "Is Grelod...you know..."

"Grelod is dead."

"I knew you could do it!" Aventus shouted. "Oh, thank you so much! You've helped not only me, but all of my friends in Riften! Here," he said, pushing a fancy dinner plate into my arms. "This should get you a lot of money! Goodbye, I'll never forget you!"

I simply left. I had nothing more to say. As I walked through the door, though, I heard Aventus say happily, "When I grow up, I want to be an assassin so that I can help kids too!"

"Oh Talos above," I whispered.

What have I done?

(A/N: Okay so I just wanted to say that I won't be posting on the weekends, because I only have computer access at school. Also, If you want to stay updated on the story progress, follow me. or don't. You don't have to, I don't like to beg..._


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